


Turn to Hate

by princesidon



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Charles Smith - Freeform, FTM, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Trans, Trans Arthur Morgan, Trans Character, Trans Charles Smith, Trans Male Character, arthur morgan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26379979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesidon/pseuds/princesidon
Summary: Charles Smith has known nothing but isolation for a majority of his life, Charles always found himself struggling to trust other people let alone men. His intimacy with seclusion had disrupted any relationship with people let alone men. Ever since Charles had met Arthur, he found that he felt most human in his company. The years of isolation and hard shell Charles learned to grow sheds when he's around Arthur. Despite this, their relationship strains as Arthur visits the camp less and less often.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Kudos: 6





	Turn to Hate

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: bisexualtop
> 
> Things to know:  
> \- i'm not completely finished playing rdr2  
> \- pls no spoil me  
> \- this fanfic takes place in horshoe overlook...  
> \- please give feedback if u can

The cold air had left Charle's lips cracked and bleeding. He missed the warm plush feeling of his own lover's lips press against his. Charles was assigned to hunt for food for the camp, however his only company for tonight's hunt was the wispy cloud of condensation that puffed with each breath. Charles gripped his bow and arrow until his knuckles turned white and peered into the whitetail deer tracks before him. Each hoof-print a foot apart, reminded him of his first time teaching Arthur how to hunt. He recalled how Arthur was terrible at reading the environment around him, how he was always terrible at reading the subtle clues of the fact that an animal among them. 

The memory was fresh to Charles, fresher than the snow that gently fell around him. It was spring that morning, and Arthur's musk was hardier than the smell of nature that surrounded each other. Lemoyne weather brings out the best out of Arthur, he thought. Charles grabbed the rough calloused hands of the other cowboy, and pressed it against the hoof tracks. "It's easier to track on snow.... but here..." he traced the track with his finger. "See?" he looked up, and noticed that Arthur had been gazing longingly at his lips. He felt his face burn red, as he was harshly reminded that he is human, Charles was vehemently reminded he was human, that others recognized him as something to be desired of. He shrugged, and noticed the hand that Arthur had around his neck. They exchanged looks, Arthur could never pick up the little details in everyday life to save his life, but he could always notice the little things when it came to Charles. He cherished him after all. They shut their eyes and pressed their lips against each other. Their first kiss together... their first hunt together. Charles valued the memory, the way the heat caused the beads of sweat to run down Arthur's forehead, his stubble scratching Charle's cheek, the way the sweat on his back obsessively clung to his clothes.

Reality interrupted Charle's introspection as a debilitating cold wind numbed his face. Noticing the deer he was previously hunting grew closer and closer he pulled his bow and arrow. His forearms burned in protest. He shut his eyes, as memories of Arthur flood his mind. The loud cry of the white tail deer pierced his mind. He walked towards the dying deer, the snow crunched with each footstep. He slung the deer over his shoulder, and stowed it into his horse and rode back to camp.

* * *

* * *

Charles lit up when he heard Arthur and his horse approaching the camp. Arthur hitched his horse to a hitching post and approached Charles. They both stood in silence, Charles balled his hands into a fist and immediately relaxed when Arthur approached him and placed a hand on his cheek. He held Arthur's warm hands, burning hot. Antithesis to the environment around them.

"What took you so long, Morgan?" Charles asked  
"Well, it's just one of them things."

he said as he cupped Charle's face and embraced his lover 

* * *

The men where shirtless inside the privacy of Arther’s tent. Charle’s long black hair was nestled against Arthur, pleasant memories rushed into Author’s mind with each whiff he took of his companions hair. It was dawn, with silence looming in the camp they where the only two awake. 

Charles turned towards his lover , his hand on Arther’s cheek and a finger running down his chin. He hasn’t shaved for a while... a beard had almost been forming. Arthur had been gone for what? Two weeks? It wasn’t fair to Charles, Arthur knows about his struggles with solitude. Arthur was his only beacon towards humanity, without him he doesn’t feel alive.

Arthur grabbed the other man’s hands and kissed his knuckles. “I missed you...” Arthur whispered.

“I’ve been here the whole time...” he replied 

In all honestly, bitterness grew in his chest. He hated that he was left alone at camp but guilt tugged at his heart, blaming himself for even feeling remotely resentful.

“Where have you been?” Charles asked, with a sharp pang of anger almost seeping out, “I... I thought you...” he trailed off and his toned immediately switched to a low tone.

Charles couldn’t help but to frown, and instinctively a tear ran down his cheek though he hadn’t noticed. After all, he mourned while he struggled with isolation. He mourned for intimacy, a concept that was so foreign to him he knew better than to trust anyone, let alone hope for it.

Arthur wiped his tear away, “Yer too good for me...”

“That’s not true! Don’t say that...” 

“I had to go and git some things done for dutch... I didn’t mean to be long for that long...” he wrapped his arms around Charles and kissed the crown of his forehead. “I’m here now, and that’s all that matters.” Arthur smelled, though he smelled good to Charles. Whiskey, cologne, nature... that was Arthur. His calloused square hands carefully running down his back, that was Arthur. The nights that go while he thinks about him. That’s Arthur. The tears that run, each for Arthur. The pangs of anxiety, the rush of love that Charles feels in his chest. All Arthur.


End file.
